Thursday, March 27, 2008

Last Words: Part 1

Arklebar, Dark Lord of Berenir, King of Uburia, and Conqueror of Kordrun staggered and fell against his throne, his shoulder spikes scraping loudly against the stone as his sword clattered to the ground.

“It’s over, Arklebar!” panted the young man. His armor was rent and bloody and his left arm hung uselessly at his side, but his sword was steady as he pointed it at his defeated foe.

Arklebar glanced around. His guards were gone and fires from siege were filling his hall with smoke. “Yeah,” he conceded, as he struggled into a sitting position. “Looks that way.”

“What? No clever threats or insults?”

“Nope.” Arklebar removed his helmet and set it beside him. “Just out of curiosity, though. Who are you?”

“Do you remember Lord Faringdoyle?”

Arklebar considered the name. “Tall guy with a wart?”

“No. My height, black beard shot with grey. Liked cats.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Well, he was my father and you murdered him!” The young man took a step forward. “I’m Bryl Faringdoyle, Heir to the Duchy of Faringdoyle!”

“Ah, the whole revenge thing. Point of interest: Did I actually kill your father or was it one of my lackeys?”

Bryl stared at his defeated foe. “What does it matter? You’re reign of terror is over! Any last words?”

Arklebar thought for a moment. “Actually, yes.” He leaned back against his throne, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “It all started when I was a kid. I had a dog named Poofy. Well, actually, he was a rock that looked like a dog, y’know, if you squinted just right. Anyhow . . .”